After It All - Post Mockingjay (ON HOLD)
by regpeg12
Summary: Katniss and Peeta living their life after everything. With their kids, Willow and Rye.
1. Chapter 1

**This is just a one shot set after Mockingjay. I am giving all credit to Suzanne Collins. She wrote the books, came up with the ideas, and characters. I wish I could say it's mine, but I can't. I hope you like this! Please review! And I am thinking of continuing this depending on what people think of it! I hope you enjoy!**

I sit on the chair, staring out the window, waiting for Willow and Rye to get home. I do this every day. Every day since… I shake at the thought and turn my attention to the outside world. These days I find it easier to forget. Easier to not think. Easier to ignore. Sometimes I can't and during those times, I have Peeta.

Over time, people returned to District 12. They rebuilt the area, only it wasn't the same. There were no longer the people I grew to love from home here anymore. Mom. I haven't seen her in so long it's painful. Haymitch. He is here, maybe, but he was always drunk as ever, never leaving his house. They pitying look he gave me made me remember. I don't like to remember. People from the Hob, like Ripper. I haven't seen their faces since the war. I don't even know if they are still alive. I don't try to see anyone. I don't want to. I don't want a reminder of all the people that died. All the people that died for me. I know it wasn't everyone, but there were a few that sacrificed themselves for my well-being. And why? Because I was, I am, the Mockingjay. They didn't care about me, as a person. They didn't like me, for me. They kept me alive because I was the symbol of the rebellion. Nobody was really there for me, as me, except-

"Katniss," I look up at the sound of the whisper and see the blue eyes, which are one of the small things in life currently, that make me happy. "Are you okay?" I shrug my shoulders but his hand rises to my face. His thumb gingerly wipes something off my cheek. Something I didn't know was there. A tear. I used to think I was immune to tears, used to think that they were for the weak. But they are for the strong who are broken, who have gone through so much that they can't deal with it anymore. I am one of those people.

"Peeta. I feel so alone." He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me to him, in a tight hug. At first I resisted his touch, I would recoil from him, afraid of everyone. Afraid of comfort. Now I greet it, it makes me feel safe. Not always, sometimes I still run and hide, and then realize its over. The Games. The Capitol. Snow. Coin. It's all over. Nobody cares enough to hurt me anymore. Nobody cares enough to hurt those I love because it's over. I sigh into his shoulder and wrap my arms around him.

The door opens and in walks my blue-eyed, dark haired girl. She is bolder than Rye, but still shyer than most children in the area. Rye trails in behind her, his blonde curls bobbing when he walks. I remember Peeta once looking like this, until Rye looks up. Rye's eyes are deep gray and remind of someone's. Another person I'd like to forget. I squint my eyes shut and push the memories away, clutching at Peeta's arms, tightly.

When they came home, sometimes they asked about the Games. Slowly, they are learning about them. Learning that their mommy and daddy were somehow related to all of this. She doesn't know the details so she didn't understand why. She doesn't understand why mom won't go to town. Why does daddy sometimes has to leave when she talked about her history class? Why does mom seem so distant, so gone? Our little girl was innocent, and pure, but she deserved to know why.

I open my eyes up and let go, turning to face them. "How was school?" The school is small. Only a few amount of children attend, due to the low population in the area. We live in the Victors Village, the only place that stayed from the old District 12. As far as I know, we are the only ones who live here, besides Haymitch. It's as if they don't want to touch the soil of reality. This happened, but they can't face it.

"We learned more, about the war." Peeta turns his head away from her, as the memories flow. His hands grip at the wooden table next to him and I see his knuckles turn white. I sigh and look back into those bright blue eyes, exactly like Peeta's, only happier, and less contaminated by the perverted ways of the old society.

"Anything out of the ordinary?" I take their packs and place them on hooks and move to the sink, to wash dishes still sitting from this morning. I try to keep up, and act like I always wished my mother would, but I don't always see the point. After the war, they gave me enough money to live on forever; I could buy a million workers if I wanted. But I am done with people doing things for me. I need to get things done because I want it.

"No, not really. A real solider rebellion veteran came and talked to us today." At this remark, my hands slow, listening to every word she says. She seems to hesitate before continuing.

Rye moves towards Peeta's leg and clutches on to it. Unaware, he uses the situation to chime in, "It was cool. We all got to ask questions and talk to him." He sits a moment longer. "He knew a lot about it."

"That's wonderful, Rye." In the back of my mind, I am questioning the mysterious hero. He must have known me, everyone did.

Suddenly Willow interrupts my train of thought, "Mom, do you know a solider named Gale Hawthorne?"


	2. Chapter 2

**I got a lot of positive feedback on my first chapter so I made a second part! I hope you like it! Again, all credit goes to Suzanne Collins. Thank you for anyone who followed, added to favorites, or reviewed. I am still not sure if I am going to continue, so let me know what you think! Hope you enjoy!**

"Mom, do you know a soldier named Gale Hawthorne?"

Silence descends on our small kitchen and I feel the air escape my lungs. Memories flood my thoughts and I try to force them out. Gale. Hunting. District 13. Prim. I clutch at the rag in my hand, squeezing any remaining water out of it. The silence suffocates me and I feel it closing in, numbing my senses. It's like I am under water. The air is heavy and forces all motion from me to move slowly, and methodically, as if unsure of anything.

"Mom?" Willow tugs at the hem of my shirt, begging me to look down at her.

For her sake, I try to compose myself. I look down at her striking blue eyes. "Um… yes?"

She tilts her head at me, questioningly. "Mommy. Do you?" He mouth tilts open, forming a small O shape.

I drag my body around and find myself staring into Peeta's deep blue eyes. There is so much in them. So many things that we just leave unsaid. He knows. My body moves slowly and mechanically. I feel like I am looking down on the situation, not in my body, watching the motions of some foreign person.

"I think I…" I choke on my own words and feel dry tears on my eyelids. I need to hold it together. For Willow. For Rye. I take a shallow, shaky breath and spit out, "I have to go." I whisper these words and wipe my hands on my pants before turning towards the door. The sudden motion rips Willow's small hands from gripping on to me, desperately trying to keep me here. In this moment. I'm sorry. I am sorry I can't be the parent you need. I push open the door and don't bother to close it, probably letting the chilled air enter my home. I am vaguely aware that I left the water running.

"Katniss!" Peeta shouts after me asking, "Where are you - ?" His question lingers in the damp, empty air. He can see me. His words propel me forward, and I am running. I am not aware of my movements. But I notice myself thinking the words: Left. Right. Left. Right. I push forward, unsure of my destination. My lungs start to burn and I ignore the pain. The air shoots its way down my throat, strangling my breath, forcing it to emit in terrible sounds of gasps and sobs.

Before I know it, I am in the forest, in the place Gale and I used to meet. In the place that he kissed me the first time. In the last place I stood before leaving my district for the very first time. Before I entered the Games the first time. I trip over a rock and sprawl out on the forest floor. I don't bother to push myself up. My feet are remembering the way I used to move through the forest, effortlessly and silently. It was the closest thing to flying. I could glide through the undergrowth and climb into the highest limbs, breathing the highest air, the purest air. But they haven't practiced the talent in so long that they seem to have forgotten the steps. I lay there, face down, in the leaves and twigs, and I can't hold in the sobs. I don't cry, not one tear slips out of my eye but the noises that come from me keep their volume at a constant high.

I haven't been back in the forest for years. I was dropped off in the Victor's Village, alone. I stayed there. People would come and make sure I was eating, make sure I was alive. I am sure somebody forced them to. They felt obligated to keep me alive after everything I did for them. Everything they made me do, as they used me and molded me and forced me to do what they wanted. I just stayed holed up there, never leaving. I breathed the same air and looked at the same walls for what seemed like ages. I didn't do anything that wasn't necessary. I breathed, I ate, and I went to the bathroom. I didn't shower, I didn't think about anything serious or too deep. Eventually people stopped coming. They finally realized that I didn't care. I didn't want to see them. I didn't want to see anyone; they just probed at my raw memories, at my raw pain.

And then that one day Peeta came. He came and he was all I wanted to see. The only one who got it. Somehow, through both of our scars and imperfections, we fit together. There was something about they way we both were so broken, so alone, so hurt, that we found each other. Our pieces completed the others destroyed life. He was the only constant that made me calm. He was the only one I wanted to see, to touch, to care about. And he cared for me too, I know that. There were things I had planned on saying, and asking when he returned, but I didn't. There wasn't a reason to. Just looking in those eyes made me realize everything that I need to know. I knew that I was safe and that I was okay. Or, at least, I would be eventually.

My frail frame just lay there in the dirt. The sounds coming out of me have lessened and become more humane. I started to get everything out. Reliving every single thing that left me to find myself in the place I am now. In this darkness, just when I was pulling it together. At least, as together as someone so broken could be.

I am so absorbed in my own thoughts that the sound of another makes me jump. Nobody comes out here, they are too afraid with everything leftover from the Capitol. I should have realized somebody came. I guess I am losing my connection with nature. I am losing the way that I could just sense any change in warmth, in sound, in air density around me. Those were the days when I was with Gale. I shut my eyes at the thought. He left me. He doesn't care about me.

I realize the presence is still there and I gently raise my head a the sound of a familiar voice, "Hey Catnip."


	3. Chapter 3

**All credit goes to Suzanne Collins! Sorry this is late! I know I said I'd upload Sundays but I was so incredibly busy! But I hurried and wrote and edited this all today! I hope you enjoy! Thank you if you've followed or reviewed! If you haven't, please do!**

Chapter 3

"Hey Catnip." When I hear those simple words, I feel my blood run cold and I immediately freeze. There are still tears on my face but I make an effort to wipe them with my sleeve. But I don't turn around. I slowly stand up but continue facing the woods, away from the voice. I am beginning to think I imagined it. With everything else that has happened today, I wouldn't be surprised if I am going crazy. It wouldn't be the first time somebody has thought that.

But then my thoughts are interrupted again, "Are you just going to face away from me forever?" I stiffen. I didn't imagine it. This is real, this is happening.

Slowly, ever so slowly, I turn. I shut my eyes as I rotate my body all the way around and just stay like that for a few minutes. I hear a twig snap and feel the presence of somebody getting closer and I flinch. "Stop." I mutter this under my breath, barely audible, but he hears it and I hear the light shuffling cease to exist.

It takes a few moments, and immense effort, but I finally open my eyes. I knew he was here but I still find myself surprised when I see Gale, here, in the flesh, less than three feet in front of me. I take him in; he is older, more adult looking. His jaw is more toned and his arms more muscular, not too much though, more the way I remember my dad. I finally urge myself to raise my eyes and I find my gaze trained into those familiar eyes. Those gray eyes that are identical to mine. Those gray eyes that I grew to love and trust. Those gray eyes that haunt me now, forcing me to relive every bad moment, and every death. They shine with the same gray tint that the smoke held. I have no good memories of gray smoke. The smoke that burned down the Hob, the smoke that ate my district, the smoke that rained around me in war and the arena. The same smoke that swallowed my sister alive.

His lips were turned up in a small half smile but I see is disappear as he takes me in. I don't know what I look like, but it must be bad. I haven't been taking care of myself the way I used to. I am thinner and less healthy. My hair has faded from its once rich color to a worn brown color. I imagine I look much like my mother always looked to me. They told me she used to be beautiful but I never believed them. I am sure Willow has had these same thoughts swirling among others in that innocent mind of hers.

I am jerked back to reality when the male in front of me says two simple words. I didn't know I wanted to hear them so bad until he just now said them, "I'm sorry." And just like that, the load is lifted, no completely but just like he lifted one small pebble of thousands that has been weighing me down. When he plucks this single on those, it causes an avalanche. I explode and let everything go, not in relief though, in anger.

"How could you? How could you do that? How could you just leave me?" My voice cracks midway my last sentence and I stop, fighting the tears behind my eyes before I am so dried out, that silent ghost tears are all the trail down my face. Invisible to everyone but me.

Gale just stands there, staring at my frail frame. But he looks at me sadly and with an almost regretful air to him. I know that can't be true though. He doesn't care. He left me. He did it on purpose. He hurt me on purpose.

"Do you really think that?" His husky whispers cuts through to me and I realize I just said those last thoughts out loud. I just said he hurt me out loud for the first time ever. Peeta knew without asking, but nobody else knew what they pain in my eyes was specifically from, just from the war, they'd assume. The pain in his eyes is stretched thin and I just look at him, nodding wordlessly.

He tries to talk again, "Do you really think I would ever hurt you on purpose? Do you think that I really meant for all that to happen? Do you think I wanted all those people to die?" His words are heavy and they fill the air, making it impossible to breathe. I feel my lungs burn but I refuse to even breath in one sip his lies.

"Yes. I do. I do think that," my voice is rising now, in a way that it hasn't for years. "You did this to me. You hurt me! You did it on purpose! You meant for all those people to die! You killed the one person that you knew I loved more than anything! YOU killed Prim! You knew it would break me so you did it! You are just like everyone else! YOU USED ME, JUST LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE!" All I see in his eyes is confusion and hurt. But I don't care, he didn't. He made me this way. He knew it would happen. I see his mouth open as if he is about to say something but I ignore him and add more. "I can't believe I ever felt anything towards you. I can't believe I trusted you. And let me just say, I did I trust you, with everything I had and everything I was. Never, did I ever, think you would betray me like you did. Never did I think you would be the one to kill those I fought so hard to protect. You said you didn't know, you said it wasn't you. But it was! It was! Wasn't it?" My cries echo in the silent forest and I just stare at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of reply. But I get none, just like I always have been. Nobody bothers to give me answers.

I raise my shoulders a little higher and push past him, which turns out to be easier than I thought it would be. He simply falls out of my way, his mouth still slightly agape. "You're still the same. Not even giving me any kind of answer," I growl over my shoulder as I continue on my trek. The feeling inside me is the worst I've ever felt. It is a mixture of relief and anguish, though I am not sure which one is dominant. But I need only think of Peeta, and Willow, and Rye, and I keep pressing forward. I think I hear somebody trying to come after me but I only march on firmer and more determined to escape.

Then I hear it, "I am so sorry, Katniss. So, so sorry. And I know it means nothing, but I'd change everything in a heartbeat. Everything." I am not sure if I am supposed to hear this but I ignore it and run. Eventually, I am able to breath again as I hear the footsteps behind me disappear.


	4. Chapter 4

**Okay, so you all probably hate me but I updated anyway! I'm so sorry I wasn't able to upload last Sunday! My birthday and my dads was this past week and I was super busy! Thanks for being patient! Well anyway, as always, all credit goes to Suzanne Collins. Thank you for sticking with this story and please review and follow! Thanks! **

Chapter 4

My feet clamber along the road littered with pebbles and that is the only sound I can hear. I ran for what seems like hours and my throat is raw and sore. My breathing is labored but I am used to it after everything today. I am willing my brain to forget everything and not think, pushing forward, hoping the painful exhilaration I feel from running will numb the thoughts racing inside.

I see the dim glow emitting from the only homely house in the Victors Village. Haymitch's house is dirty and dark, as always. If he continued on his trend, he is probably passed out somewhere, alcohol pulsing his veins in place of blood. My feet pound on the ground and I find myself standing on the porch, facing my door and hearing faint voices slipping through our sturdy door.

"When will mom be back? You said soon, daddy." That is Rye's little voice, questioning Peeta. I can visualize the way he'd be tugging at Peeta's sleeve, his eyes wide and confused, begging a response.

"I think she should be home any minute now. She just had somewhere to go." My heart swells a little when I hear Peeta's smooth voice comforting children. He knows me. He really, truly knows me, and I know him. He knew what my reaction would be and he knew I'd go and he knew I'd come back. He knew. He knows.

I stand here, looking at the wooden door. Memorizing every detail I already have engraved into my memory. The wood is cracking and old, worn from days and days of people pressing in on it, rushing in after a long day in the mines, or the cold weather that would settle over the area. Then the more recent events: kids running in from school, or Peeta gently pressing it open after checking on the plants or on Haymitch. Peeta still made sure he was okay, but he never tells me anything about him. He knows I don't want to hear it. Haymitch used me just like all those other people. He doesn't care. Nobody does really. I continue my study of the door, procrastinating the inevitable.

I hear the voices fading slightly and then a loud squeal. "Daaaad. Put me down!" A high pitched giggle fills the eerie night air and pierces though the door, awakening something inside me that seemed to have numbed itself from the outside world. Willows voice rings out again, "I don't want to go to bed, Daddy! Please don't make me! I want to stay up until Mom get back." A shiver runs down my spine and the cold air starts to bite at my bare skin. I didn't bother grabbing a jacket when I left but as night descends, the chill immerses everything in sight.

"I'll make sure she kisses you when she comes in. I'm sure she is just moments away." His warm voice comforts them both and I hear their excited voices trail away, up the stairs.

For some reason unfathomable to me, I am still unable to move. Though I feel my skin freezing and the air wrapping it's spindly fingers around me, I can't motivate myself to go inside and face the inevitable confusion and questions I will be facing. Peeta won't press the subject if I don't want to, but he will still have a desire to know. And he deserves that much. He deserves that much knowledge.

All at once the door swings open and the orange light from our house floods in. I find my eyes locked with Peeta's, which are clouded with worry and confusion, but no mistrust or anger. He is never angry with me, even when he could be. I don't deserve him. When this thought crosses my mind, I am reminded of something Haymitch once told me, 'You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him.' I open my mouth, prepared to offer up some sort of explanation for my actions but I don't have a chance to say anything a Peeta closes the gap between us, his warmth enveloping me and before I know it, I feel tears streaming down my face. Generally, I try to keep crying to a minimum but lately, I have been feeling less and less like the old Katniss. I am more broken and weak. It is far more easy to get this new Katniss to cry than it was every to get the old Katniss to show a single emotion rather than disapproval.

"I – I'm sorry," I manage to murmur into his soft shoulder, nuzzling my face into the fabric of his shirt and taking in the smell of him and the ever constant air that always reminded me of freshly baked bread. My breath catches and I feel it coming into my lungs in small spurts as I make an effort to contain myself.

Peeta holds me tight and caresses my hair with one hand, whispering into my ear, "it's okay. Shhh. You're all right. You don't need to apologize, you didn't do anything wrong." He somehow moves us inside, closing the door behind him and lowers us both on the couch in the front room. I curl up in a ball next to him, leaning on his chest with my face burrowed in him.

We stay like this for a while, a fire burning across the room from us. Both of our eyes train themselves on the flames, dancing among the logs and letting out random clicks and sparks. I know Peeta hasn't said anything and that he won't, but he is curious. "Peeta," I start.

He cuts me off gently, "No, Katniss, you don't have to."

"I want to," I emphasize, though we both know it's a lie. He just patiently sits still which I shakily sit up, still curled in a ball near him. "Well… I saw him."


	5. Chapter 5

**All credit goes to Suzanna Collins! Thank you all so much for reading my story and taking time to review! If you haven't, please do! Sorry this chapter is so short! I have been busy and this is kind of just a filler chapter, and I am having bad writers block! Hope you enjoy anyway!**

Chapter 5

"Well… I saw him." I whisper into Peeta's shirt, burying myself in his smell and his warmth.

"Saw who?" he questions, though I am almost positive he knows who. He knows I need to say it though.

"I left. I went into the woods and I saw him," I breathe out shakily and back in while Peeta nods, pressing his lips to the top of my head. "Gale, I mean." When I say that simple name, it sends shivers down my spine and I feel Peeta place a reassuring hand on my back, urging the chills to stop. My heart strains as I remember the experience.

I recount the entire situation and as it draws to a close I feel my face raw and stretched from the salty tears. I keep my face hidden, afraid of how Peeta will look at me. Normally, I am able to keep my act together and I'm working on being kinder. Haymitch always told me I needed to. And Peeta deserves somebody as kind as him, though I know I will never come close in compare.

"Katniss," his gentle voice cuts through my thought but I keep my face pressed into his shirt, begging the tears to stop, though I am sure he can feel the dampness seeping in through his shirt. "It's okay." His hand makes its way to my face, pressing fingers on my chin so that I can look up at him. I shut my eyes but I can feel his bright blue ones examining me.

Finally, I cannot deal with the tension and I slowly open my eyes, only to come face to face with Peeta's heartbroken face. I know he hates it when I cry. Usually I can press everything out and stay in my happy, oblivious bubble. I can pretend it didn't happen. I can pretend I am happy. But then some days, I will see someone or hear something that taps on my walls of ignorance, causing tiny cracks to stretch out in every direction. But never, ever, has it broken down the wall, letting all my emotions spill out.

My face feels raw and worn after the many tears I shed and I gaze at Peeta's sad face trying to think of an explanation. But he beats me to it, "He shouldn't have done this, but neither should you have."

"But-" I start to protest, like a child.

He holds up a finger, "No. I am not done. I am not saying that he shouldn't have come back. I know why he did. But he shouldn't have left in the first place." I feel empty tears prink at my lids but I have nothing left to cry out. "He shouldn't expect it to be easy. Him, of all people, should know you hold grudges. But hear him out. Katniss, he deserves that much. I know you disagree and I know it will be hard, but try, for me." I shut my eyes, massaging my temples. He is going to pull that now, is he? He knows I can't resist when he puts himself into the equation. But I just can't. Gale broke me and discarded me to the side like I was nothing.

"He doesn't care about me. I have you." I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to him.

Peeta sighs and gently place my hands on my lap, looking me in the eye. "Katniss. Just think about it. You don't have to talk to him. You don't have to give him a chance, but think about it. As much as it pains me to admit, he cares about you and you had to have cared about him. You don't let people in so that they can't hurt you. But obviously he hurt you, so you felt something towards him. Whether you know it or not, you still do." A sharp stab inflicts itself in my chest at the truth in his words. I have been ignoring the pain, numbing it with meaningless pastimes but I care. And he hurt me, and I am not good at forgiving.

"Okay," I say, before I can stop myself. A sad but satisfied smile creeps on to Peeta's face.

"Okay, you'll think about it?" He questions. I nod my head and he smiles again. "Now, why don't we get back to whatever that was before…" He lifts my hands and places them behind his neck, and leans in to me. His warm lips collide with mine and I stay stiff at first, worried about something. Then I remember it's over, we're safe. At least, for now. I let myself kiss him back though I am sure it's not too pleasant due to the tears staining my face.

Then I hear something on the stairs. A thump. I jump back from Peeta, detangling my arms from him and turning to the stairs just in time to catch a pink pant leg disappearing up the last stair. Peeta lets out a small groan and I turn to him worried. "Do you think they heard me? Do you think they heard what I said about the war, and… and… him?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, I am so sorry this is late! I was traveling and then I got home yesterday and I was so tired! So I updating today, two days late! I am so sorry. All right well, as always, all credit goes to Suzanne Collins. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review. I seriously love reading these awesome comments! If you haven't yet, please do! Follow, review, and favorite! Thanks! Hope you enjoy… And sorry this is not edited and it's pretty short but I really wanted to get this up for you all! **

Chapter 6

"Do you think they heard me? Do you think they heard what I said about the war, and… and… him?" I whisper, my eyes filled with fear lock on his and he stares back.

We both sit silently a moment, begging what we heard to not be true. At first it is silent and I feel my heartbeat slow considerably. Then I hear another thump and jerk my head to look at him. He reaches out a hand and brushes the hair from my face, soothing me instantly. "I'll go. I can go talk to them. You get to bed."

I hesitantly nod my head as he stands up and starts his way upstairs. I sit silently, begging myself to remain in control. I hate it when I can't control. Since everything I have been through, we have been through, I need to maintain control on this catastrophe they dare call my life. They have the guts to tell me, "This is your life." When I have no control. I am a plane spiraling, doomed to land in the middle of nowhere at some point.

I get up and pace around the kitchen a moment. I can hear Peeta's steady voice comforting someone upstairs. My mind wanders and can't help but think about who it was up there. Willow? Poor, little Rye? I shove the thought from my head and numb my pain as I gulp down the cup of cold water. It slithers down my through and turns everything to ice.

Eventually, I am able to convince myself to go up stairs and I quickly change and slip under the covers, curled in a ball. I press my forehead to my knees, which I hug. As I shut my eyes tightly, I reject every thought from my mind, trying to keep it blank. I don't want to think. I don't want to be in this place again. The nightmares never stop, but I have a feeling they might be worse tonight. They will be filled with agonized screams, the scent of roses, small cramped metal rooms, and worst of all: Peeta. He will be everywhere, as always. His arms reaching out and clenching to my neck, his eyes filled with hatred and anger. Anger and sadness and heartbreak, which I am the cause of. I shut my eyes tighter, begging the memories to subside but they deepen and sharpen into the crisp image of everything. I let out a whimper that turns to a scream and I cover my mouth. I let out little gasps but try to stifle the noise. Tears start to leak out the corners of my eyes and I pull them shut tighter, wishing I could just be gone and get one happy moment.

Then I feel his arms wrap around me. The warmth presses the thought away and I welcome him as I turn over and press my face to his chest, and later find my way to his lips.

"Peeta. I hate this," I whimper, into his warm form.

He nuzzles my head lightly, replying, "It's all right. We're okay. I am here and I am fine. So are you. We are safe. It's over." I try to let myself believe this but I can't. I will never feel safe, not when I know what humans are capable of. Not when I know that people I love can betray me. I feel like the one I can trust is myself, and Peeta. But even he seems distant sometimes. But then again, so do I. I am not me anymore. In ways, I am still the stubborn Katniss that volunteered at the Reaping. But I am not brave anymore, or whole. I am broken and weak and scared, with a sliver of my old form that I cling to for dear life. It is the only piece of me that keeps my outer self together for them, for Willow and Rye. It isn't always there when they are at school, sometimes I fall apart and Peeta patiently places all the pieces together, holding them tightly until he's sure I can bear the load. And even then, he holds on a little bit longer and a little bit tighter.

After a while, I feel his breathing slow to a steady rhythm and I place myself next to him, nestled in his sinewy form. As I listen to his breathing tickling my neck, I feel my own heart stop racing and I fall asleep as well, curled up like a child next to my safe haven.


End file.
